


Alphabet Soup with Marco Bodt

by Madam_McFerret



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Multi, Transgender Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_McFerret/pseuds/Madam_McFerret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Marco Bodt's life is a bowl of alphabet soup. Each letter means something, each letter separating him from his old self. 26 letters turned a girl into a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alphabet Soup with Marco Bodt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zombie_bnvnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombie_bnvnd/gifts).



My name is Marcia Bodt, but that would soon change about me, hopefully like other aspects of myself. You see, I am transgender, and I was currently in the process of transitioning. I hadn't told anyone yet, but I would as soon as I turned 18. I had a simple binder and had bought myself my own male underwear, and luckily I did my own laundry, so I never had to deal with my parents questioning me about my preference in under garments. My birthday was next week, and I was going to come out early that morning, so that if things went well, my parents could take me on the usual birthday shopping trip and we could get things to help me transition. My parents have always been very supportive of me, so I believe that this would be the same. 

Oh, how rude of me. I realize you don't know very much about me. My current name is Marcia Bodt, and my birthday is June 16th, which is the very middle of the year. Split exactly down the middle, a perfect half. I just graduated with flying colors right along side my best friend, Jean Kirschtein. Jean and I have been the best of friends since we were very little, probably since we could walk and barely babble. I had hinted to Jean that I was transitioning, but I hadn't outright told him that I was soon going to be male. See, I really liked Jean, and I was transitioning for my own sanity, but he definitely factored into the equation. He is pansexual, so it doesn't matter if I am a guy or a girl to him, at least romantically. You see, we have shamelessly been flirting for the past several months now and I know that he is quite abrasive, but Jean has had my back with everything, this included. I also wore corrective lenses because I have had bad vision as long as I could remember. I had been an excelling student, like Jean, and we both had been accepted and were now enrolled in Trost University. We had been admitted to the honors program, so we would room together in the best dorms, or the Sina suites. Jean wouldn't have been able to afford Sina, but luckily he graduated as the sixth in our class and earned a large enough scholarship to go to Trost and only have to buy books every semester. He was my inspiration, and I did everything I could to be with him, even if I had to make shitty excuses just to be around my best friend. 

I remember this one time I got some pocky and told Jean about the game and what it entailed. We played once, and I remember feeling our noses brush as the pocky shortened, then I felt the slight prickle from the small hairs on his face. His lips brushed mine once we finished the candy stick and his amber eyes burned into mine deeply, asking a silent question. I pressed my lips a little harder against his, increasing the pressure between us. I dared not to close my eyes, because I didn't want to miss a single emotion in Jean's eyes, and I watched as his eyes widened, an effect of the adrenaline, then saw them soften as his hand gently pressed into the small of my back. I was about to wrap my arms around him when I heard the door knob jiggle and we quickly tore apart from one another. We never spoke of that again out loud, but we would leave hints by letting our eyes flick to each others lips for several long seconds. We would also sneak boxes of pocky into each others backpacks and leave a small little note with it. 

Jean aside, I need to think about what I'm going to say. Maybe I don't say anything at all? What if I just walked down the stairs wearing a baggy shirt over my binder and a pair of boxers hugging my thighs instead of some lacy panties adorning my ass. Or, I could bake a cake and color it blue, and write "it's a boy!" hmmmmm. Maybe not the best of ideas... Although it would be quite interesting to see them figure it out. Wait, I've got it. My long black hair has always been a sign of my femininity, so I should get it cut early that morning and then head to the mall to get a few NEW clothes. Yeah, that sounded like the best option.  
\----------  
My alarm blasted at 7:00 A. M. and I knew my parents had not woken up yet. I grabbed my car keys and put a binder in a backpack, then I proceeded to head out the door. It was my birthday and I was finally 18, so I was headed to the salon to cut off my hair. I didn't apply makeup because today was the day I became a man, starting with the physical appearance. My freckles were dark and obvious, and I was happy that I wasn't concealing them beneath a layer of foundation and blush. I wasn't wearing my binder yet because I didn't want the hairdresser to judge me, so I went to the mall in skinny jeans and a nice shirt. 

My hair dresser smiled as I came into the salon, and asked "what'll it be today Marcia?" I returned the friendly smile and sat in her styling chair. "I was thinking something a little different today. You see, it's my 18th birthday and I thought I would try something..... Shorter?" 

"How short are we talking, Marcia?" Lucille asked me, treading carefully. "I was thinking, perhaps you could give me an undercut. I want to donate all my hair." Lucille gasped quietly. "But... Your hair is what defines you as the subtle and sexy Marcia Bodt.... Are you sure?" 

"I know that is what defines me, but I'm starting anew as an adult. Plus, someone needs that hair more than I do." Lucille seemed sickly and upset because my hair was going, but she complied. She would do anything for me, even if it meant donating my hair which she so loved to style into beautiful curls and up-do's. 

Lucille pulled my hair into a long ponytail and got out her silver scissors, holding the piece of metal gingerly in her thin fingers. She sighed and then smiled at me gently and began to snip. She held my hair right below the ponytail, making sure my locks didn't fall to the ground. She finished snooping through the thick ponytail and I felt what seemed like a tons worth of weight literally lift off of my shoulders. Lucille held up my hair and I saw how long it was, and I has happy that someone out there would get my hair one day and be so happy to have it. 

After Lucille placed the fragile remnants of my once long hair into a special bag, she began working on my undercut. I took off my magenta Calvin Klein glasses and held them in my hands, closing my eyes and listened to the sounds of Lucille working to make my hair perfect. I trusted her to do a good job, because if anyone could do it, it was Lucille. I took a deep breath and reminded myself to breathe for my announcement later that day. As Lucille finished up, I opened my eyes and my mouth flew open, like a big O, and my eyes almost bugged out of my head. My hair was amazing. Lucille added a little bit of gel in my hair, and as she was doing this, I had the idea to text Jean to tell him to meet me in the food court, at panda express. He shot me back a quick "see you there, birthday girl" and I frowned slightly. I was going to have to tell him. Soon. 

I thanked Lucille and payed, then exiting her shop and walking out into the open mall. I still had some time to kill before Jean got here, so I decided I would already change. I bought a pair of white converse and some roll up jeans, you know the ones that were rolled up a little on the bottom. I also purchased a red and black plaid shirt, and it made me kinda look like Marshall Lee. I took my new clothes and my backpack to a nearby restroom and locked the door quickly. I took off my shirt and slipped on my binder. I adjusted and then threw my new shirt on over the binder, jiggling into my pants with a new intensity because I was going to be late meeting Jean. I finally got on my shoes and laced them up, stuffing the old clothes in my bag and scurrying out of the bathroom before any women saw me. I walked quickly towards the food court in agony, for my anticipation was intense and would not relent. I sat myself down in panda express and waited, because for once, Jean was late. My phone buzzed and I opened the text from Jean, saying that he was almost there. I saw his two-toned hair through a window, and nervously went to brush my hair out of my face, before I remembered that I no longer had that much hair. I saw Jean look around before he spotted me and began his trek across the restaurant to sit with me. He got to the table and sat down, raising a quizzical brow and opening his mouth to ask the obvious question. 'why? ' 

"Jean, thanks for coming." I said quietly, letting my eyes steal a glance up at him, seeing tenderness in his eyes. "What is it, Buttercup?" he asked sweetly. He has always called me that, and hearing him say it in this moment calmed my fears of telling him. "I know you're confused about my hair and you probably think I'm a lesbian or something, not like you would care, but I care about what you think and I oh my God I am rambling haha..." I saw him look at me in utter confusion because that didn't answer his question, but he let me speak because I always had to get the nervous babble out of the way first. I took a deep, deep breath and restarted. 

"Jean, I'm Trans. And I didn't want to tell anyone outright until today, my eighteenth birthday. Because.... Because if things didn't go right, at least I am an adult now, and no one can tell me how to live and if people choose to judge, then I will not be associated with them. I know it is quite bold, but I'm transgender. Surprise..." I finished off feebly, feeling a bit sick, actually. I didn't want to lose Jean, but he had to know. This was important to me, and I wanted him to be apart of this important milestone with me. 

I watched Jean process the information as a multitude of emotions swirled with a reverent sort of ferocity in his eyes. His stare never let go of me, even when he went to go get our food. I was nervous as hell, but that melted away when Jean came back, wearing a shit eating grin. I chuckled quickly, trying to draw away awkward tension. 

Jean leaned forward and gave me a small kiss on the forehead and then grabbed both sides of my face with his stringy hands. "Mr. Bodt, might I say you look quite handsome. I am so proud to call you my best friend. What should I call you now? " 

I was utterly astonished at Jean's statement. In fact, I was so overcome with happiness that I leapt across the table to hug him, nearly spilling the rice bucket. "Marco. Call me Marco, please." I wanted to stay with the Italian name, so I chose Marco. I felt it also suited me best appearance wise. Jean smiled and nodded, testing my new name out on his tongue. "Marco Bodt. Marco. Polo. Marco." he scrunched up his nose and laughed at his lack of humor. He snorted very unattractively and that made me giggle, leading to Jean and I receiving some nasty glares. We proceeded to eat our food with light conversation, but I could feel the elephant in the room and I knew what Jean's real question was. 

"No, I haven't told them yet but I plan on doing so tonight. Will you come with me to my house after we finish eating our lunch?" Jean let out an acknowledging grunt as he stuffed his face with more General Tso's chicken and low mein, and I couldn't help but feel relieved.  
\----------  
It was around one o' clock when we came back home, and I saw a note on the kitchen counter when we entered my house. I put the keys to my jeep on the key hook and went to go grab the note, which was very obviously written by my mother. Her neat scrawls across the paper with a blue ball point pen read: "Marcia, your father, Nico and I went to the store to get supplies for your birthday dinner. We will be back at around two thirty. Love, Mama." Jean let out a puff of air as he read the note over my shoulder, and I felt his forehead press into my neck as he grinned. "We have it to ourselves for another hour and a half. To the roof?" I nodded and grabbed Jean's hand, leading him to the roof where we once spent many hours before school got complicated. 

"It has been ages since we have been up here" I whispered quietly, letting my fingers mess with a loose shingle on the roof. Jean nodded and glanced over at me before he turned back to his bag and pulled out a small brown bag. He looked skiddish, as if he was anxious about me opening his present. "I hope you like it, Marco." He shoved the package at me and I barely had time to register before it went flying into my flattened chest. I coughed and laughed at the same time, picking up the package and tearing at a corner cautiously. "Do I need to be worried, Jean?" I added, acting coy and innocent. He threw a sarcastic glance in my direction and I proceeded to take the gift out of the bag. 

My hand flew to my mouth and my eyes blinked rapidly as I saw a box of pocky with hearts all over it. "Will you be my boyfriend?" it read. It had previously said girlfriend, but that was scratched out very obviously with red pen, and boyfriend was added quickly, followed by a sloppy smiley face. My eyes darted to Jean and he smiled, and I saw that a shy look had over taken him. "I know we never talked about that time, but I know that pocky means a lot to you, to us, and this was the only appropriate way to ask... And and.... I want to be with you, Marco." 

My eyes filled and I couldn't say anything. My throat was thick and heavy, so the only way I could respond was by kissing him gently and desperately on the lips. My eyes fluttered closed as Jean drew me closer into his lap, placing his hands on my hips gingerly. I let my hands cup his face and I felt the sharpness of his jaw. I let my fingers explore the surface of his face and upon my exploring, I made a discovery. "Jean, why are you crying?" I wiped his tears away with my thumb tenderly, seeing his crooked smile spread across his face. "You said yes. Not out loud, but you said it. I felt it." he gasped out as I went in to kiss him again, but I heard the beeping as the front gate unlocked down my windy driveway. "Damnit" I said, not so elloquently. Jean and I scrambled away from each other and climbed through the window into my room. He shared another quick kiss with me, chasing my lips after we parted. I cleared my throat and he grabbed my hand, offering a tiny and chaste kiss to my knuckles before he let go of me. 

Jean and I headed downstairs and he greeted my parents as I sat on the couch, pretending to be asleep. My mother walked into the room, talking pleasantly with Jean, when she stopped and started whispering. Jean nodded and my mother smoothed down her dress, with a fake smile plastered on her face. I sat up 'sleepily' as she approached me. "Marcia, you cut your hair, I see. Lucille did a really good job, as always." I nodded and stood up, cracking my back. I heard my mother elicit an "oh." as I stood, revealing my flat chest and lack of makeup. She laughed nervously and shot a worried glance in the direction of my father and my brother Nico. 

My mother, father and brother all gathered in the living room, and I had them sit, a cheesy grin spread across my face as their eyes wondered over my figure. "Guys, I'm Transgender... What do you think?" I anxiously let my eyes wander between the members of my family and Jean. He gave me a reassuring wink and I saw Nico nod in acceptance. One down, two to go. My mother gripped the edges of her dress tighter as she sat next to my father, who was quickly becoming more crimson red in the face than I had ever seen him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, at all.. 

All I knew was that this was not right, and as my father rose from his seat, I saw my mother, Nico and Jean develop a look of worry on their faces. He took a step towards me, and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and something was made very clear to me: 

This was a touchy subject.

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying to finish CSL, but I had this idea and had to post the beginning.
> 
> Dearest Zombie_bnvnd, I am sorry for my lack of posting. I'll finish CSL soon. 
> 
> I do not own any of this, blah blah blah, yeah yeah ye. 
> 
> Love, K


End file.
